Two Hours
by Timeless A-Peel
Summary: AU. Trapped. Injured. Surrounded by the enemy. How long can three people hold out? Complete.
1. Zero Hour

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Yes, more AU from the fic vaults. I wrote this one around the same time as "Odd Man Out" as a way of putting to paper some niggling ideas that wouldn't leave me alone. I'd planned to post it following "Odd Man Out," but when I finished it, I wasn't entirely certain if it had turned out how I'd planned, and put it aside. Recently, I just let a few people read it (you know who you are!), and they said "post it." Ergo, I'm posting. A tense little survival piece, it's better than I recall from writing (but then most things are when you have break from them). At the very least, it will serve as a little stop-gap as I work on the arc. Share and enjoy!

* * *

"Keep going!" Gambit yelled as they rounded a corner, ducking behind the wall, gun at ready. "I'll catch you up in a minute."

Purdey slowed slightly, torn between following Steed and staying behind with Gambit, but the senior agent grabbed her arm and urged her on. "If Gambit's willing to buy us time," he told her uncertain features, "the least we can do is take advantage of it."

Purdey nodded, picking up her pace and pelting off down the corridor, letting her body switch on to autopilot to free her mind. That meant she could think, and her thoughts turned to her colleague. She risked a glance over her shoulder to see how Gambit was making out, and just managed to catch a glimpse of him shooting a man who rounded the corner, gun ready to fire. He fell to the ground, and Gambit straightened out of his crouch and started running after them, gun still in hand. It was then that Purdey noticed the shot man wasn't dead, and his trembling hand was raised, still holding the gun, finger poised on the trigger.

"Gambit, look out!" Purdey screamed in warning, and Gambit twisted instinctively to the side. Too late, the gun fired, and Gambit collapsed to the ground, hand pressed against his side. Purdey froze for a split-second, then did an abrupt about-face and darted back to where he lay.

Gambit was gasping with pain, and Purdey could see the crimson stain growing against the white of his shirt. She bent over as she reached him, both hands clamping onto his arm and heaving with all her might. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steed doing the same with the other shoulder.

"Leave it," Gambit choked, his voice sounding thin and strangled. "You don't have time—"

"Oh, shut up," Purdey snapped. She didn't need him wasting his strength on fruitless protests. "We're not leaving you anywhere. You can't think we'd let you miss all the fun?"

"The fun's right here," Gambit managed, loosing off a shot just over Steed's shoulder, and taking another henchman down with it.

"That may be," Steed broke in, grunting as he took Gambit's weight over his shoulder. "But you still owe me three pounds from last week's round of Solo."

Gambit laughed a laugh that quickly evolved into a cough. "I told you—we needed four for Solo, and Purdey went home after the second round."

"A bet's a bet," Steed chastised cheerily. "I consider it my moral duty to ensure you don't shirk on your obligations as a gentleman."

"I'm not a gentleman," Gambit wheezed. He had one arm each braced across Purdey and Steed's shoulders, and the three of them were limping down the corridor, doing their best to pick up the pace despite the fact that Gambit was steadily becoming dead weight.

"You said it, not me," Purdey quipped, even though she was panting with exertion. Gambit was heavy, even with Steed helping, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep their already much-too-slow pace up. "But we'll debate it later."

"Hope so," Gambit muttered, eyelids fluttering with fatigue. "We're not going to make it," he said after a moment. "We'll need…shelter…if we're going to survive the blast."

"I'd already considered that," Steed replied, glancing at his watch and doing his best to spur Gambit on, even though he didn't like the way the way younger man was breathing. "There should be a cell down this way. This _was_ the quarters wing, wasn't it?"

"I think so," Purdey panted, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. "Do you think we set enough explosive?" She looked to Gambit and saw the blue-green eyes flash with grim satisfaction.

"Yes," he replied, voice dipping lower in that particular way that made her bones shake. "Trust me. I've had a lot of experience with explosives."

"I should say so. You do have gunpowder in you right now," Purdey tried to joke, and Gambit treated her with a grim smile.

"Runs in my veins," he offered by way of a reply, then turned to look ahead. "There's a cell!"

Purdey saw the door, picked up her pace. "Come on, Mike," she urged, pushing him along. "You can rest in a moment."

Gambit's face was pale now. "Yes," he managed, just as they crossed the threshold into the cell. "Nice final resting place."

Purdey's head whipped round in alarm. "Gambit, no! You're not going to—"

It was then that the world exploded. Purdey felt the blast heat her back and throw her forward. The last thing she saw was the floor rushing up to meet her, before something struck her head, and everything went black.


	2. 0 hrs, 15 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Erm, I'm a little ashamed to admit I sort of half-forgot I'd started posting this. Too much focus elsewhere on the fic front, but I'm not going to let that happen again.

You're going to get two updates this time around. The purpose of this fic was to write something in "real time" as it were, with each scene occurring a mesaurable number of minutes from the last, and from the start of the fic, following the characters over a shorter period than is usual for a story. That means more updates, some of which will be quite brief, others notably longer. We'll see how it works. This is one of those experimental fics, and I'm figuring it out as I go. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Her head hurt. That was the first thing she was aware of upon regaining consciousness. A pounding emanating from the back of her skull and circling round up into her eyes. She didn't want to open them, because even a tiny sliver of light made the pounding worse. Instead, she lifted one arm and sent a hand to the back of her neck to investigate. It discovered a bump and a small patch of stickiness. Purdey groaned and winced as she investigated further. Something had hit her. Hard. Maybe not hard enough to cause major damage, but hard enough to knock her out. She was sprawled on her front, and she could vaguely remember the ground approaching her face much too fast before she lost consciousness, but she didn't think falling had done it. The hand went exploring again, this time groping blindly in the immediate area around her head. She found a medium-sized chunk of rock with a patch on it that was suspiciously damp to the touch and indulged herself with another groan. That was the culprit. Bloody rock—literally. She bit her lip and tried to roll over on to her side, her position on her stomach not doing her neck much good. As she braced herself against the ground with one hand to push herself on to her side, it came in contact with another puddle of wet, sticky stuff. Purdey cracked an eye open and tried to look at it. It was blood, all right, but not hers—much too far away to be from her head, and her torso felt only bruised and battered, not damaged enough to bleed. It was then that her vision expanded to take in the background, beyond the crimson stain. Her eyes widened despite the stabbing brightness. The blood wasn't hers. It was Gambit's.

Purdey screamed.


	3. 0 hrs, 18 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Second update, as promised. I'll try to update this one fairly frequently to keep people from losing the plot strand. Stay tuned...

* * *

Well, she would have if she'd had the strength. As it was, she felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of her. Gambit was sprawled beside her, where he'd fallen when the explosion had hit. His right side was facing her, the side that had taken the bullet, and she could see the thin trickle of blood adding to the growing puddle filling the space between them. Her fingers were stiff in the already-congealing mess. She didn't know how long they'd been out, but it was already too long as far as she was concerned. Purdey tried to scramble to her knees, pieces of rubble and other debris sliding off her back as she did so, stockings snagging on the tiny pieces of rock scattered over the floor. Gambit's face was slack and pale, and Purdey had the awful feeling that he might be dead already. Her body protested every movement, and she learned very quickly she'd collected a very impressive set of cuts and bruises as a result of the explosion to accompany the headache. She pushed the pain to the back of her mind, and concentrated on getting to Gambit. She crawled over, on her hands and knees, to his unmoving form. There was a nasty gash on his forehead as well, but it wasn't bleeding as badly. Purdey reached over and pressed two fingers to his neck, allowed herself a brief sigh of relief when the fluttering of a pulse danced beneath her fingers. Gambit's skin was unnaturally cold, though, and Purdey's noticed his chest was rising and falling irregularly, as though he were having trouble breathing. A punctured lung? Purdey bit her lip so hard it almost bled and moved to check, but she was distracted by the crumpled form a few feet away from where Gambit lay. Purdey recognised the broad shoulders almost immediately.

"Steed!"

The senior agent wasn't moving, either, but when Purdey crawled over to see him. He was lying face down on the floor, arms sprawled, but she was relieved to see he wasn't bleeding out. There was, however, a rather large rock pinning one leg to the floor at an odd angle. _That doesn't look good_, her shell-shocked brain opined. Her thoughts were still fuzzy from her blow to the head, and she felt panic settling in to scatter it further. Gambit and Steed were both unconscious and injured, she had a head wound, and they were still deep in enemy territory. Even though the bomb had gone off, it surely hadn't taken everyone out. That hadn't been the point—the point was to destroy the rather large computer network in the bowels of the complex, the one that had the power to turn the world's missiles against one another. Or against the people they were meant to protect. Steed, Gambit, and Purdey had been sent in undercover to learn more about the organisation, but their deception had been uncovered, and they were forced to flee to evade capture, and to set in motion the plan that was only meant for extreme circumstances. That was where Gambit's explosives training had come in handy.

_Gambit…_

Purdey's fragmented train of thought was broken at the sound of someone moving in the corridor outside the cell. She froze, ears pricked. Someone outside the room was groaning. And it wasn't one of them. So that meant…


	4. 0 hrs, 22 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: I got a couple of "more please" comments, so who am I to argue? Two new pieces today.

* * *

Purdey executed a quick forward roll that would have made Gambit proud had he been in the shape to observer it, one that took her closer to his body. Nearby, she found what she was looking for: Gambit's revolver, a few inches away from his outstretched hand from which it had skidded when its owner had hit the floor. Purdey scrabbled in the dust and debris for it, grabbed it with both hands and crawled over to the door, careful to stay to one side of the opening. She risked a peek and saw one of their pursuers slowly picking himself up, groaning. He, too, had survived the explosion. Before Purdey could decide what to do with him, he noticed her, started clawing in the mess for his gun. Purdey took him out before he could. One shot. Clean. Efficient. Like an executioner. Purdey swallowed hard as he slumped backwards onto the ground. She didn't like killing like that—she didn't like killing at all! But she was working on autopilot now, in survival mode. It was strictly us vs. them, and Purdey was determined to not let it be them.

It was getting easier to think now, particularly in small steps. Secure the cell. That was step number one. Purdey tucked the gun into her belt and set about hefting the sturdy metal cell door, pushing it closed, and drawing the bolt closed on the inside. She cast about quickly for something to barricade it with, settled on a sturdy-looking bureau, and set about pushing it up against the door. Only when it was in place did she turn to her two fallen colleagues.


	5. 0 hrs, 24 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: I got a couple of "more please" comments, so who am I to argue? Two new pieces today.

* * *

She made a split-second decision to help Gambit first. He was clearly most in need of it, and even though she felt guilty for leaving that rock on Steed's leg, as far she knew he didn't have any other injuries. Bleeding internally was a possibility, but she couldn't do much about that, and didn't have time to go looking. Better to treat what she could see.

She'd left the wardrobe with its drawers facing out into the room, and she searched through it in search of something she could use to staunch the bleeding. After all, these were someone's quarters, so she knew there ought to be linens of some sort somewhere. Her guess was rewarded—she found some fluffy white towels that would serve her purposes. She gathered them up and hurried over to kneel next to Gambit again. She rolled up one towel, and used it to prop up his head, then turned her attention to his torso. She didn't want to risk taking his shirt off just now—she wanted to staunch the bleeding first--but she decided it would be easier to work if she got rid of the waistcoat. Sitting near his head, she reached over his face to access the buttons, making quick work of them with nimble fingers. She slowed her approach down slightly as she moved to peel the waistcoat away from the bullethole. She'd hoped Gambit wouldn't feel it, but instead the pain thrust him into consciousness with a deep, almost primal, howl. The tendons stood up in his neck, his teeth clenched, and his whole body spasmed as Purdey's hands went to either side of his head and tried to hold it still, to calm him.

"Mike," she said firmly, clearly, trying to keep the sob out of her voice. "Mike, it's all right. I'm here. I'm sorry. I needed to get at the wound…"

Gambit's eyes were wide, and she could see much more of the whites than she was used to. He stared up at her, bent over his face, sucking in short, staccato breaths. Purdey stroked his forehead with one hand, retrieved a towel with the other and showed it to him. "I'm going to put some pressure on the wound. You've lost a lot of blood, and you can't afford to lose any more. Do you understand?"

"Purdey…?" The voice was weak and hoarse, strained, just like the muscles in his neck, but she heard the question nonetheless.

"Yes," she assured. "I'm here. Now listen. I'm going to help, but you have to work with me. We need to stop the bleeding. Do you understand?"

Gambit nodded, once, curtly. A hand reached up for the towel. "I can do it."

"Mike…"

"Let me." It was almost a growl, but Purdey knew it was aimed at the pain, not her. He was being stubborn, wanting to do something for himself. She knew arguing would only waste precious time, so she gave him the folded towel and watched as he pressed it hard against the wound. Another howl escaped his lips, but it was less intense, and he was sucking the air in less violently. Purdey covered his hand with hers, checked to make certain that he was applying enough pressure, but knowing Gambit he would always push harder rather than give himself a break. She nodded at his pale features to reassure him that he was doing well, before sliding the hem of her skirt up her leg, and starting to detach the stocking from its suspender belt. Gambit snorted a little through the pain.

"Trying to let me die happy?" he managed, eyes sparking just slightly with his usual mischief.

"You're not going anywhere, Mike Gambit," Purdey replied, a smile in her voice. Gambit flirting was a good sign. "Not until you see the other leg, anyway. We're going to use this to hold the towel in place."

"There's always a reason behind it," Gambit muttered in disappointment. "Can't you give a chap a little unconditional encouragement?"

"I might just do that when you get better," Purdey murmured, kicking off her shoe so she could get the stocking off all the way. "But first things first." She put her shoe back on and started to slide the gauzy material underneath him so she could wind it around his chest. She tied the knot tight, doing her best not to leave off even when Gambit jerked as she pulled it taut. "There," she said, as cheerfully as she could muster. "That should do it."

"Thanks, nurse," Gambit rasped. "I'm ready for my sponge bath, now."


	6. 0 hrs, 30 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Longer piece this time around for your reading pleasure. More updates soon.

* * *

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like her to see to my leg, first."

Purdey and Gambit reacted simultaneously to the new voice, turned to find John Steed's face turned towards them, also contorted with pain, but managing a flicker nonetheless.

"Steed!" Purdey exclaimed, scrabbling over to where he lay. "I'm sorry. I was coming, but Gambit—"

"Needed you more. I understand." Steed's eyes told her he did, too. He focussed serious eyes on Gambit. "How are you holding up, Mike?"

"I've sprung a leak," Gambit told him, meeting the grey eyes with his own. "Nothing new. I'll just rest here awhile." He nodded to Purdey, who had crawled back over to check on his dressing. "I'll be all right for the moment. Go see to Steed."

"I'm giving the orders now," Purdey told him, reaching over to brush a stray curl from his forehead. "Sit tight and I'll take a closer look at your damage in a moment."

"Oh, I've wanted to hear you say that for a long time," Gambit murmured to himself, closing his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Purdey shook her head, and turned back to Steed. She pondered the rock pinning Steed in his uncomfortable position.

"I think my leg's broken," Steed informed her, rather unnecessarily."

"I'd guessed that much," Purdey said with a sigh. "Steed, I'm sorry. Do you think you can handle the pain if I move it?"

Steed nodded. "As Gambit said, this isn't my first time dealing with damage in the field." He lay back down on his stomach, and Purdey could see his eyes were shut tight. "In your own time," he said cheerfully, in a way that only Steed could.

Purdey took a deep breath and braced herself. She wanted to get the rock off Steed as quickly and cleanly as possible. The last thing she wanted was to have it roll back onto his leg and cause more damage. She put her hands against it, and heaved, using every ounce of her strength to keep it from rolling back into place. She heard Steed groan, but she tried to ignore it and focus on the task at hand. Eventually she managed to push the rock all the way off to the side, and collapsed back on her bottom, panting with exertion. She didn't let herself rest for long, though, scrambling over to support Steed's weight as he dragged himself over to the nearest wall and set his back against it. Purdey noticed that the cot furnishing the cell had been provided by a pillow, and snagged it to prop up Steed's injured leg. Steed winced when she moved the appendage, but didn't cry out. Purdey took the opportunity to assess the damage, running her hands gently up his shin until she found the source.

"Good news," she said as cheerfully as she could muster. "I think it's a clean break. And it hasn't gone through the skin."

"Just me making a mess, then," Gambit said through gritted teeth.

"You've always been very good at it," Purdey replied, making sure Gambit saw her smile.

Steed was as comfortable as he was going to get, and his mind was already moving on to other things. "Hat," he muttered as he cast his eyes over the rubble. "My bowler. Has anyone seen it?"

Purdey frowned at him, wondering how he could possibly worry about accessories at a time like this. "I'm sure it's here somewhere," she said with a sweep of her arm over the general vicinity. "Why?"

"It was outfitted with a radio," Steed informed, not bothering to halt his search. "If I can contact the Ministry, we might have a way out."

Purdey's eyes lit up hopefully. "That would mean medical attention for you and Mike!" she said with dawning realisation.

Steed paused his scan to give her a critical once-over. "I'd count yourself in that need as well, Purdey. Are you all right?"

Purdey shrugged in a way she hoped looked nonchalant. "Bit bruised, that's all." She flashed him a smile, but Steed wasn't buying it. She wished he would. She didn't want to sit by helplessly while Steed and especially Gambit were in such a precarious state.

"There's blood down the back of your neck," Steed observed, and Gambit's head turned in alarm.

"Purdey!" The name started him coughing and wheezing, and Purdey scrambled over to tend to him.

"I was knocked out by a rock," she snapped at Steed, annoyed at him for upsetting Gambit. "But I'm fine. Really. Anyway, you're not in any shape to argue. I'm the only mobile one, so by default that makes me the one to look after the pair of you, and repel any attacks." Gambit settled down and Purdey lowered his head back onto the towels. His eyes were closed, but he squeezed her hand before she let go, so she knew he was still conscious, if exhausted. She decided to leave him be for the moment, returned her attention to Steed, chin raised defiantly.

Steed sighed resignedly. "As you're blessed with mobility, perhaps you could see if you could find my bowler. The sooner I'm able to radio in, the sooner _all_ of us can receive medical attention."

Purdey couldn't argue with that logic, started shifting some of the larger rocks in search of the erstwhile chapeau. She found it beneath a rock not far from the one that had struck her, pulled it out and coughed at the dust it sent up. She examined it. The crown was badly dented, the hat practically crumpled into itself. She regarded it miserably, unable to see how the mechanism within could have survived. All the same, she went back to where Steed was lying, handed the wounded hat over into his capable hands. He regarded it mournfully for a moment, before flipping it over and punching the crown out as best as he could. It only half resumed its shape, but Steed gave it a friendly pat nonetheless, then activated some small switch within. An antenna struggled valiantly upward, bent at an angle in several places. Purdey bit her lip.

"It doesn't look good," she opined, but Steed managed a cheery smile nonetheless.

"If there is one thing years in the field have taught me, it is that appearances are deceiving." He turned an evaluative gaze back to the hat. "Not a pretty sight, I grant you. But we'll see what a little tender loving care can achieve." His eyes flicked to Gambit. "I'll keep at it if you do."

Purdey nodded, standing and brushing off her skirt. "Let's see what else the resident kept in this cell," she murmured, and set about rifling the rest of the chest of drawers she'd propped against the door. It was the obvious place to start. Other than the cot and a small side table with a jug and basin, the bureau was the only piece of furniture in the room. The middle drawer had held the towels, so she went for the top one instead. It contained various articles of clothing, and Purdey was ready to discontinue her search almost as soon as she started. Self-discipline ensured she stuck it out, however, and she was very glad she did. Stuck in a sock and buried in the back corner of a drawer was a bottle. Purdey tipped the sock over and let the bottle land in her palm. She turned it over and read the label. Aspirin.


	7. 0 hrs, 38 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: On it goes...

* * *

"Painkillers," she announced to the room, and Steed's head snapped up. Even Gambit cracked his eyes open, despite the fact he couldn't look at her from his position. Purdey hurried over and showed Steed. "Just what we need. If we're going to wait, the pair of you may as well not do it in agony." She glanced at the side table, caught sight of the basin. "There's even water to wash it down." She hurried over to retrieve the jug. There were no glasses, but they would make do. She returned it to Steed, who had opened the bottle and was sniffing the pills. He tasted one, seemed to think it was satisfactory, and took it, reaching for the jug Purdey offered.

"It's a bit dusty," she told him as he swallowed and then winced. "But it can't be helped."

"Indeed," Steed agreed, handing her the bottle and turning back to his hat. "Thank you, my dear. I'll be better able to focus now. Gambit will appreciate them as well, I'm sure."

Purdey gathered up both bottle and jug and went back over to Gambit. He opened his eyes again when she settled down beside him. Purdey shook the bottle in front of his face. "Catchy," he wheezed at the rhythm. "But it'll never sell."

Purdey's mouth quirked up on one side. "Well, if it won't sell any records, it can at least make you more comfortable."

Gambit's lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't like pills."

"I know you don't," Purdey said with a sigh, "but you're white as a sheet, and all of your muscles are wired. You'll pass out from exhaustion at this rate." She tipped two pills into her hand, held them out. "Please, Mike. I know they cloud your thinking, but there's not much you can do down there, and I don't think you'll fare any better lying there in agony."

Gambit's mouth stayed firm. "Pain lets me know I'm alive," he managed.

Purdey's eyes softened, and she leaned in to stroke his forehead. "I can do that," she whispered, caressing him gently. "But I can't sit here and watch you writhe. Please. Take them for me?"

Gambit looked ready to protest, but then he saw the pleading expression in the blue eyes, and sighed, opened his mouth so Purdey could pop the pills inside, then drank from the jug while Purdey held it with one hand and propped his head up with the other. It was as she was settling him back down that his eyes passed from the ceiling to the wall immediately behind his head. He saw a small square of light above.

"Window," he rasped, and pointed with his eyes when Purdey looked at him inquiringly. She glanced up and found that he was correct—there was a window in the cell, small, near the ceiling. It had no bars, only glass, which had since been shattered in the explosion, with only a few small shards still clinging to the frame. Purdey set down the jug and stood up to investigate. It was too far to reach, so she went over to the side table and set it against the wall, climbed up, bracing herself against the wall as she balanced precariously. She peered out at the world beyond. This part of the base was just above ground, and she could see running feet in the distance as some of the base's personnel scrambled around in the aftermath of the explosion. She ducked down when one pair ran just past her head, lest they see her. Looking down, she could see Steed and Gambit looking up.

"Fish in a barrel," Mike opined, licking dry lips. "Someone sees us down here, there's nowhere to hide. We're easy targets."

"Then don't make any noise," Purdey said tersely, jumping off and landing gracefully. "Yet another reason to give you the painkillers."

"What did you see?" Steed wanted to know, grey eyes intense.

"Feet," Purdey said truthfully. "I think it looks into the rear courtyard. Everyone's on high alert, running around like headless chickens."

"Do you think you could fit through?" Steed pressed, eyes now looking upward to assess the dimensions.

Purdey frowned, knew where this was going. "Wait—"

"Find out." It was an order, not a suggestion. Purdey opened her mouth to protest, but Steed's expression was grim. He was clearly not interested in listening to arguments. Purdey swallowed in spite of herself and climbed back up on her table, did some mental arithmetic.

"I think so," she informed when she returned to the ground. "But I'm not leaving you here. Either of you."

"I'm not asking you to," Steed said cheerfully, cloud of anger clearing. "Not yet. Not until I know for a fact that my bowler's life is at an end." He turned back to the hat and started fiddling with the antenna. "But all the same, if you have to, it _is_ there."

"It's not going to come to that," Purdey said with feeling, drawing Gambit's gun and striking a defiant pose. "I'm here to protect you."

Gambit smiled through his now-customary grimace. "My hero," he warbled, and Purdey laughed. It was a relief.


	8. 0 hrs, 58 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Nice long piece this time around. Happy Easter, everyone!

* * *

Time passed. Purdey sat crosslegged on the floor, leaning back against the wonderfully bracing concrete of the wall. She was starting to feel the affects of her injuries, the various aches and pains all clamouring for her attention. She closed her eyes and tried to shut them out, but they were too persistent, each making itself heard individually before adding to the general chorus. Her head was the worst offender, a pulsing, overwhelming throb emanating at the base of her neck and reaching up and around the back of her skull, over the crown, and into her forehead. She desperately wanted to take one of the painkillers, but she didn't dare do anything to slow her reflexes. She was the only one capable of responding to danger, and she needed to be able to think clearly for that. She gritted her teeth and willed the pain away, managed to dull it somewhat behind her eyes before opening them again. Injuries in the field were expected, but never very enjoyable. She hated having to wait for recovery, and yet she had never taken even a fraction of the abuse Gambit had, including this time around. She looked over at where he was lying, eyes closed, breathing labourious, and wondered if the pills were even putting a dent in his misery. Further investigation into his wounds had revealed that her initial hypothesis was right—he'd broken three ribs, and one was perilously close to his lung. Gambit had confided to her not long after they met that he'd had a punctured lung before, but she didn't imagine experience made that sort of injury easier to take. And yet here he was, back in the field, close to doing it all over again.

"Why do you do it?"

She said it without realising it, and it was only when Gambit opened his eyes and turned his head her way that she realised she'd broken the silence in their little shelter. Until now it had only been the sounds of static from the bowler as Steed fiddled with it and the running feet outside which had provided a soundtrack. Gambit was looking at her in bemusement, having no idea what she was talking about. For all he knew, she'd just broken up his nap. Purdey bit her lip. She didn't really want to get into this now, with him so vulnerable and so much else on their plate. But she had said it, and now it was impossible for it to be unsaid. And part of her was aching for a distraction, of any kind, and she didn't want to bother Steed.

"Why do I do what?" Gambit wanted to know, and Purdey smiled.

"This job," she explained. "You hate hospitals, you hate people fussing over you. You never listen when people tell you to rest up and take care of yourself. You're terrible about sticking to medications. You never take as much leave as you should. And yet you go off to work every day and pull darnfool stunts knowing you'll only have to do it all over again in a matter of weeks or months. Run back out for more as soon as the stitches are in. Look at you now." She shook her head in mild disbelief. "If I didn't know you any better, Mike Gambit, I'd say you were a masochist."

Gambit smirked at that, licked dry lips before they cracked. "Maybe I am," he quipped, voice rough and hoarse, but the humour was there. Purdey grinned at him and he returned it. It was very hard to strip all of Gambit's spark away, even in a situation like this.

"Well, at the very least you do a very good impression of one," Purdey murmured, and her smile faded. "Really, Mike. I'm serious. Why do you do this to yourself? You're in great shape, but you're always banging yourself up until it's difficult for you to even exercise." She pictured his torso the few times she'd seen him with his shirt off. Gambit healed surprisingly well, both quickly and seamlessly. From a distance one wouldn't know he'd taken damage at all. It was only when one got up close, and knew where to look, that his past started to come out, unravelling itself over his stomach, up his chest, around his waist, across his back. Some of the scars she knew the story behind, remembered the injuries, saw the blood. But others were older, fainter, with stories that were unknown to her or any of the Ministry men she knew. Battlescars from past lives. To Purdey, they spoke of pain. Fear. Vulnerability. They spoke of the sum of experiences Mike Gambit had endured, the events that had built him, strengthened him, made him the man he was today. She longed to understand them, and yet, on the few occasions she'd asked, passed it off as a teasing remark, he'd almost always deflected her. Sometimes it was with a smile and a wicked gleam in his eye, teasing her about some juicy anecdote in his past. But other times he'd gone deathly quiet, and his eyes had grown dark and distant, and Purdey knew she hadn't prodded a scar, but an unhealed wound, one that could be laid bare with the slightest provocation. Inevitably, he would snap back to the present and smile, and make some smart remark, but Purdey knew she'd inadvertently caused him pain, and she always regretted it. Sometimes he wouldn't be right for the rest of the day after it, distant and ill-at-ease. On occasion it would catch up to him in the night, and he'd crawl into the Ministry looking haunted. It always faded over the course of the day, and he never admitted to anything being wrong, but Purdey always felt the urge to mother him to make up for her earlier transgression. And yet, she still longed to know the stories, to be able to name the scars as she could the ones he'd earned in the relatively short time she'd known him. There were over thirty years of Mike Gambit that were more or less a mystery to her. Who was Mike Gambit? What had he done to himself? She rubbed her arms self-consciously, suddenly feeling cold. She could smell the death, now, hovering over the base like an all-consuming black cloud. All the people who were trapped and couldn't get out. Just like them. She looked at Gambit, half-expecting to see some wraithlike spectre hovering over his broken body. "Why do you do it when you know you could end up here?" she wanted to know, eyes fixed on the place just above his head, willing whatever was there to go away.

Gambit exhaled slowly and turned away, licked dry lips. "Something to do, I suppose."

Purdey snorted, but it hurt her head. "Macrame is 'something to do,' not risking your neck on a regular basis. You'll have to do better than that if you're going to fob me off."

"Thought it was worth a try," Gambit managed, a small smile stretching his lips. "Started off when I was a kid, I guess. Every boy wants a thrill, and you get it any way you can. You know, schoolboy mischief, that sort of thing." The smiled faded. "And things weren't brilliant at home, so anything that distracted me from that was appealing, even if you ended up bleeding at the end of it."

Purdey felt her heart go out to him. Gambit didn't talk about his family much, save an auntie who cared enough to send him pajamas every birthday, and a grandmother who had passed away years ago. He steadfastly refused to talk about his parents, and Purdey honestly couldn't say if they were dead or alive. Regardless, Gambit seemingly hadn't had a very happy home life.

"Eventually it wasn't enough. I wanted out, new thrills, something beyond the mess the war left behind. So I joined the Navy. Decided to see the world."

"Did you like it?" Purdey inquired, propping her chin in her hand. Steed was still working intrepidly way with the bowler, lips moving soundlessly. She expected he was oblivious to the world, their conversation included, and she needed to distract herself somehow. She suspected that Gambit needed one as well. He looked a little better, but he was clearly still in pain, the pills only putting a dent in his considerable discomfort, but as long as he kept talking he couldn't focus on how miserable he felt.

"No," he replied, much to her surprise, before turning gleaming eyes on her. "I _loved_ it."

Purdey chuckled at the way she'd let herself be drawn in. "Well, if it was so good, why did you leave?"

Gambit frowned. "Sometimes I wonder that myself," he murmured. "I think in the end I decided I was sick of having almost my whole damned life regulated. No real freedom, no flexibility. But I think deep down I was tired of waking up to a different view out the window every morning. Don't get me wrong. It was great. I loved the adventure, learned a lot. But in the end you want to put down roots, at least for a little while."

"And did you?"

Gambit laughed, but it turned into a cough and he stopped. "For all of six months. Couldn't stand it."

"Needed another adrenaline fix, did we?"

"Motor-racing."

Purdey smiled knowingly. "Ah, yes, your stint as a crash test dummy."

"I didn't do too badly in the smaller races," Gambit defended. "It was the Daytonas of the world that were my undoing. They play rough out there."

"Rougher than in here?" Purdey pointed her chin at the barricaded doorway. "Your sense of perspective is very warped, Mike Gambit."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Oh, hush. You still haven't answered my question."

"I'm getting there. Look, after I left the racing circuit, I went back into the service. Army this time around."

"And?"

"Well, I was in one place most of the time. Got my kicks out of the parachute regiment." He paused, and Purdey could see he was choosing his next words carefully. "But I was…getting older. Empty thrills don't cut it after awhile. I wanted to do something that…meant something."

"And did you?"

Gambit bit his lip. "I tried," he said finally. "I really did. But it didn't work out quite the way I planned."

Purdey found herself leaning forward, definitely interested. She could feel the weight of things unsaid hovering over her. She desperately wanted to know what it was she was missing, the piece that she felt was integral to Mike Gambit as he was today. "What happened?" she breathed, hoping, praying, that here, of all places, on the edge, he'd confide in her.

But Gambit simply looked away, turned his eyes up to the ceiling. "Just what I said," he murmured. "It didn't work out. So I tried again. Turned up at the Ministry. Worked out well enough so far. Bit of action, flexibility, and worthiness. Ticks all the boxes, really."

"Oh," Purdey said, unable to conceal her disappointment. Her head was hurting again, more than ever, and she closed her eyes against the bright stabs of pain at the back of her skull.

Gambit looked at her, clearly aware he'd disappointed her at some level. "What about you?" he croaked, desperate to reconnect. He was feeling poorly now that he'd talked, though he didn't blame Purdey for it. He needed someone to keep him this side of conscious, and Purdey's voice was always incredibly good at that.

Purdey's eyes cracked open. "What about me?" she murmured, and Gambit could tell her own injuries were catching up to her.

"You know. Why do you stay? I know the ballet threw you out, but you're a bright girl. I thought…I mean, you could come up with something other than patching up someone who should know better." He smiled sheepishly.

Purdey shook her head gently, so as not exacerbate her headache. "It has it's compensations," she said quietly.

"Such as?"

Purdey's face split into a smile, and Gambit thought she'd never looked lovelier. "Well, I'm never out a squash partner, and I have someone to keep me fed."

Gambit smirked back. "Something tells me you could find those no matter where you ended up."

"I don't think it'd be quite the same," Purdey contradicted, looking fondly from Gambit to Steed and back again. "I don't think we'd have quite the same bond."

Gambit didn't say a word, just smiled back, eyes shining despite the pain. Purdey held his gaze for a long moment, then broke away before it became too much. She looked to Steed instead.

"Why do you do it, Steed?"

Steed looked up from his work briefly, gifted Purdey with one of those understated those little looks. "I thought it'd be obvious," he said simply. "The company."

Purdey nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "That sounds about right."


	9. 1 hr, 20 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: It's just not Gambit's day, is it? You really do have to wonder, like Purdey, why he keeps coming back for more, but there's always more going on under the surface for some people than you'd ever know...

We're clipping along nicely, but there's still a good chunk of time left to go. Many thanks for all the lovely reviews. Always much more fun when you're not posting to empty space.

Now back to your regularly-scheduled survival drama.

* * *

The awful gurgling noise tore Purdey away from peeking out the cell window. From her perch on the table, she could look down on Gambit, in time to see the bubble of blood rise up out of the corner of his mouth. Purdey gasped in alarm, dropping down off the table, landing in a crouch so she could attend to him as quickly as possible. Steed was also struggling to push away from the wall, bowler forgotten as he dragged himself toward Gambit, who was now making strangled sounds as he fought to breathe.

"His lung's collapsed," Steed said tersely to Purdey as she unbuttoned his shirt and worked the bandage covering the wound away with shaking fingers. "He needs some sort of air valve."

"Where are we going to find one of those?" Purdey cried in panic, watching Gambit's eyes bulge with growing horror.

"I don't know," Steed muttered, eyes darting around the cell, searching for something, anything that would serve to preserve his young colleague's life. "There must be something. We mustn't let him die." He looked at Gambit, unused to the feeling of helplessness slowly creeping into his gut. There was so little he could do here, and he wasn't used to having to save Gambit. On the contrary, Gambit had acted as his own rescuer, and Purdey's, on more occasions than he cared to mention, and he felt it was time to return the favour. A sudden thought struck him.

"Mike," he said urgently, locking his eyes with the other man's. "Do you have your wallet?"

"What?" Purdey said in incomprehension, face fearful and confused, but Steed was insistent. Gambit seemed to understand, gestured best he could at his back right pocket. Steed went looking without bothering to explain.

"Purdey, do you still have that penknife?" he snapped, extracting Gambit's wallet and opening the slim fold of leather.

"Yes, but I don't see—"

"Get it. We'll also need some adhesive."

Purdey bit her lip, glanced at the wardrobe, scrambled over. "Adhesive plasters," she announced, producing a box of bandages. "Will those do?"

"They'll have to," Steed said tersely, and Purdey hurried back over, knelt beside Gambit's side. "Now listen carefully, Purdey. Gambit likely has a scar from his last collapsed lung. You're going to find it, you're going to use your knife to make a hole at that same spot. We're going to open up an air valve. Understand?"

"Yes, but with what?" Purdey screeched. "Steed, we're losing him."

"At the risk of sounding indelicate, Gambit's healthy, ah, appetites, will save him." Steed produced a small foil packet from the wallet, held it up for Purdey to see, then tore it open. "You'll need to make an incision in this as well. We'll secure it with adhesive bandages. Understand?"

Purdey was gaping at Steed in surprise, eyes fixed on the condom. "Yes," she said faintly. "Of course. You knew Mike..."

"I knew Mike," Steed confirmed. "Now hurry."

Purdey nodded again, took her penknife from around her neck, opened it, and held it over Gambit's exposed side. She looked in his panicked eyes, felt her heart break a little. "I'm sorry to have to do this," she told him, before bringing the blade down.


	10. 1 hr, 25 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Brief, but it kills the cliffhanger from last time around. There will be two updates today. Look out for the other one.

* * *

Gambit's scream was silent, which somehow made it worse, but at the very least it pushed some of the blood out of his lung, and soon Purdey and Steed were able to set about affixing the condom to his side. After a little while he was breathing more evenly, and he wasn't flopping about in the way that reminded Purdey uncomfortably of a land-bound fish. All the same, the blood the little adventure had left on the floor was more than enough to disconcert her, particularly the neat dotted line of crimson that had spread across her bodice with the puncture. Nevertheless, she leaned over him, rested an ear against his chest to reassure herself that his heart was still beating, that he was still breathing. Beside her, Steed lay slumped on ground, massaging his aching, broken limb that was only now reasserting itself as the adrenaline ebbed away. After a moment, Gambit's right hand twitched to life, rested itself first on Steed's arm, then transferred its attentions to Purdey's shoulder.

"Thanks…" he wheezed, so quietly that both Purdey and Steed weren't entirely certain they'd heard it.

"All in the line of duty," Steed replied, and caught a ghost of a smile on Gambit's pale lips. He started the arduous process of dragging himself back over to his corner to resume work on the radio. Purdey was still bent over Gambit, though she'd turned her face away. Steed suspected she was crying, but knew she would be loathe to admit it to either of them. He wasn't willing to disturb her when he was perfectly capable of moving a few feet on his own. Heaven knew he'd gone farther in worse shape than he was now, though he wouldn't have said 'no' to a nip of brandy. He thought Purdey could probably use one, too.

"When we're home," he promised himself, and settled in to work on the radio again.


	11. 1 hr, 38 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: And here it is!

* * *

Purdey jerked from the exhausted reverie into which she'd slipped at the sound of crackling static. She whipped round to see Steed fiddling with a very bent but nonetheless extended antenna sticking up from the bowler. He had pushed the bigger dents out of the actual hat, but it was still nowhere near its original shape. All the same, it appeared to be finally in working order. Steed noticed her looking his way, and smiled.

"Have you contacted anyone?" Purdey asked eagerly, crawling over to where Steed sat.

"Not yet," Steed murmured, twisting a tiny dial concealed in the brim. "I'm trying to get a fix, but remember the Ministry left us an open frequency. It shouldn't be too difficult to find it, even with the state the bowler's in." As he spoke, a voice squeaked out faintly from among the static. Steed and Purdey exchanged hopeful glances, and Steed started to fine-tune the dial, seeking out the voice. For a moment it seemed as though it had been lost, and Purdey bit her lip. If they lost it… But to her delight it crackled back to life, this time stronger than ever.

"Steed? Steed? Are you there? Over."

Steed breathed a sigh of relief, bent over the bowler to ensure he was heard. "Collins. It's good to hear your voice."

"Not half as good as it is to hear yours, old boy," replied the bowler, sounding equally relieved. "We had a report of an explosion up your end almost two hours ago. There's smoke to spare, and the whole damned place is in chaos. We wanted to go in, but we didn't know if you lot were dead or captured or if you'd made it clear. Didn't think it would be sporting to go in until we heard from you."

"For that I'm sure we're all eternally grateful," Steed replied, almost cheerfully. "Listen carefully. We're all alive but we're still in the base. There's a cell in the lower right of the facility. There was a cave-in, and we can't get out this end. There's a window, but too much traffic outside to make an escape, and we've sustained our fair share of damage. Purdey's mobile, but I've broken a leg, and Gambit—" He paused, and Purdey could tell he was considering how to convey the gravity of Gambit's injuries with her listening. She knew he wanted her to keep calm, but there was no point in lying at this point. They both knew Gambit's condition was poor and deteriorating by the minute. They didn't have time to tiptoe around the issue. _Gambit_ didn't have time. She bent over the bowler itself.

"Gambit's in critical condition," she told Collins, glancing over at Gambit and catching him struggling to take a breath. "Bullet wound in the side, collapsed lung, lost a lot of blood. He needs urgent medical attention."

"Purdey?" Collins sounded pleased to hear her voice. "Thank goodness you're all right, at least."

"Enough about me," Purdey said impatiently. "Hurry. If you're quick about it, you might just earn yourself a dinner date." It was probably the most inappropriate time to offer up incentives, but she didn't think a little motivation could hurt under the circumstances.

"Right," Collins said crisply, but with just a touch of pleasure. "Sit tight. We're sending people in, including a medical team. Give us a few minutes."

"Thank you, Collins," Steed said. "I'll leave the channel open, just in case. Contact me with any new information."

"Will do. Over and out."


	12. 1 hr, 48 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Ticking down the updates. Not many more chapters left...

* * *

Steed leaned back against the wall, and smiled. Purdey smiled back and brushed a bit of dusty, bloody hair from her eyes. "We're safe," she declared. "We're going to get out of this. Gambit, did you hear?" She turned to look at Gambit, and felt all the blood leave her face. "Mike!"

Gambit was convulsing, desperately trying to force air into his lungs. Purdey crawled frantically over to him, Steed watching anxiously, cursing himself silently for being unable to assist. Purdey bent over Gambit, checked the makeshift air valve. It wasn't inflating the way it needed to. She leaned over Mike's face, touched his forehead, could see light fading in his eyes. "Mike," she whispered, feeling tears form in the corner of her eyes. "Hold on. Help's coming."

"Not…fast…enough. I'm dying, Purdey," Gambit hissed, teeth clenched against the pain. "There's nothing you can do. You have to let me go."

Purdey shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. "No," she whispered. "I can't. I won't."

Outside, there was an explosion. The base rocked, and Purdey felt a sprinkling of dust on her shoulders. Outside the door, she heard running feet, and the voices that accompanied them were most definitely not those of Collins' men. She turned confused eyes up to Steed.

"They must have intercepted the signal," he grunted, turning gently over onto the side without the broken leg so he could drag himself along the ground toward him. "They know our location."

Purdey brandished Gambit's gun, eyes blazing. "Let them come," she growled.

"Purdey, please." Gambit's eyes were pleading, tears of pain trickling out of the corner of his eyes and sliding down his temples. "You can't stay here and go down with me. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me."

Purdey leaned down, stroked his forehead. "But I _want_ you," she whispered.


	13. 1 hr, 52 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: I know updates have been sporadic lately, but real life has been getting in the way. I'm going to try and make them more regular again for the last few chapters. These ones are short, I know, but it's necessary for the structure, and you'll be compensated in the end. Until then, the minutes are ticking away...

* * *

Gambit shook his head frantically. "No," he whispered. "No, please, no. Don't. Purdey, don't do this to me. You can get out."

"Well, you're not the one giving the orders," Purdey snapped, taking the safety off the gun. "Besides, even if I left you, there'd still be Steed."

"He could get out the window, if you helped him," Gambit rasped. "Purdey, I'm begging you. Please. Save yourself. For me."

"We're getting out of this," Purdey said firmly. "All of us. Do you hear me, Mike Gambit?"

Gambit let out a soft sigh. "Never could win an argument with you," he whispered. "But I've got one trick up my sleeve this time." He locked eyes with her. Purdey felt her heart stop as he took one last shaky breath, then let his eyes slide closed.

"No…" she whispered. "No, no! Steed, no! Make him stop."

Steed was watching grimly. "Purdey, there are some things even I can't do."

"Mike," Purdey moaned, putting her hand to his chest. He'd stopped breathing, and his skin felt dangerously cold under her fingers. "Mike Gambit, don't you dare! Don't you dare die on me, do you understand?" But he didn't move, didn't show any sign that he was heeding her orders. Mike Gambit was letting go of life, so she would let go of him.

"Purdey…" Steed said softly, hearing the pounding on the door. "Go."


	14. 1 hr, 55 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Double update today. Squeezing every bit of tension out of the final minutes...

* * *

"No!" Purdey screamed, pushing Steed's hand away as he tried to shove her toward the window. "I won't go! I won't!"

"Purdey, he did it for you!" Steed said urgently. "You can get out the window. You can get away."

Purdey locked eyes with him. "What about you?"

Steed shook his head. "I'm dead weight. I'm staying with Gambit. I won't leave him alone. No one should die alone."

"If you stay then I stay."

"Purdey—"

"Steed, don't push me," Purdey warned, gun in hand. "We don't leave one another. That's not how it's supposed to work. I won't leave you, and I won't leave him." She put a hand to Gambit's cheek, stroked it gently. "It'll work out. I promise you."

"Purdey…" Steed tried to protest, but he saw the look in her eyes, and recognised it as one of his own. He wouldn't have left them in the same situation. Why did he expect Purdey to do the same? Against all odds, he felt himself smile.

"I've taught you too well," he murmured, and Purdey smiled back.

"Together to the end."

"Always."


	15. 2 hrs, 0 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Time's up for our heroes. And yet it's not the end. Stay tuned for an epilogue of sorts...

* * *

With Gambit between them, they turned to face the enemy. But it was at that moment that the sound of shots echoed outside in the corridor, and then one set of voices was replaced by another. Soon it was quiet, and then, pounding on the door.

"Steed!" a voice called. "Gambit! Purdey!"

"Collins?" Purdey hazarded, looking to Steed, who nodded his assent. Purdey scrambled to her feet, hurried to the door and started to drag the furniture aside, aware it could be a trap, but not willing to waste any more precious time. Gambit didn't have it.

Still, she was relieved when she saw Collins' face on the other side. She grabbed his arm, dragged him inside, pointed at Gambit. "Help," she ordered. "Now."

Collins nodded curtly, indicated for people to follow him in, and a squad of armed men, along with a clutch of medics hurried in, immediately tending to Gambit and Steed.

"He's dying," Purdey managed. "His lung. He stopped breathing."

"We'll do everything we can, miss," one of the medics promised.

"Oxygen!" screamed another.

Purdey moved to see what was happening, but Collins restrained her. "Let me go!" she screeched. "Let me g—"

She hadn't noticed the medic behind her until the needle was into her arm. Purdey only had time to see Gambit's slack face as they loaded him onto a gurney before everything went black and she knew no more.


	16. 170 hrs, 23 min

Two Hours

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: AU. Anytime during the series will do. Be free, little fanfic!

Author's Note: Well, I did say that the last chapter wasn't the end, didn't I? And it wasn't. _This_ is, almost an epilogue of sorts, and nice and long--much longer than a lot of the chapters, anyway. Thank you for all the lovely reviews for this one. I'm glad I posted it now. I hope you enjoy the wrap-up just as much.

With this fic ending, I'll be gearing up to start the next story in my arc soon. Keep an eye open in the next few days for the first chapter of that. Until then, I'll leave you with this...

* * *

Mike Gambit came around slowly, eyes gradually adjusting to take in his surroundings. It was difficult to focus at first. His eyes felt gummy and unresponsive, and the world was blurry no matter which way he looked at it. He actually gave up and closed them more than once before trying again, and again, to make some sort of sense of where he was. Gradually, agonisingly slowly, things began to resolve. First the room, a blur of white, started to fade into shapes. A bedside table. A monitor, blipping away quietly with each beat of his heart. Flowers. Looking down. Tubes. Lots of tubes. Leading into him. Sheets. Bed. Foot of bed. Door. Window. Trees. Outside. He looked up again, to his right, where he hadn't looked before. Chair. And in it. Blob. He still couldn't see very well, struggled to right his depth perception. The blob slowly resolved. It was flesh-coloured, but the top was lighter than the bottom. His head was hurting from focussing so hard, but he refused to give up. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, and was soon rewarded when the fleshy blob slowly transformed into a face, a familiar face. Blue eyes smiled out from below the lighter part—the _blonde_ part. Gambit felt his lips twitch upward happily. Ah. Yes. This looked very familiar.

"Purdey," he said, or at least he thought he did. His throat was so dry, his voice so out of use, all he managed, at least as near as he could tell, was to let air rush down his windpipe. But Purdey smiled and leaned in, so he thought he must have managed the name. She bent over him, bringing one hand up to lay aside his cheek.

"Hello," she greeted softly, her voice a caress that drifted all the way down his poor, battered body, which was only just now deciding to remind him of how much it had gone through, and why it was necessary for it to be in the hospital. He knew that was where it was. Where else had monitors? Where else did he go that smelt of antiseptic? Where else did he end up when he hurt all over? And where else did Purdey look at him quite like _that_?

"Purdey?" he repeated, hoping that she really was here, looking at him with tender eyes, not just a morphine-induced fantasy. That would have been very disheartening. But he would have imagined a perfect Purdey, and this one bore battle scars from their last adventure. They were well on their way to healing by now, but the cuts on her cheeks and forehead were still marring the otherwise-beautiful face.

She smiled again. "Yes," she reassured. "I'm here. I've been here all week."

"Week?" He licked dry lips. "Been that long?"

"It has," she informed, reaching up to brush a stray curl back from his forehead. "You gave everyone quite a scare."

"Even you?" He raised an interested eyebrow.

She didn't even bother to shoot him down this time. "Even me."

Gambit tried to whistle, but his lungs weren't up to it. "Must have been serious," he managed. The last memories before he blacked out were coming back, and he felt all levity leave him. "I thought…I was _sure_ I wasn't going to make it. I thought that was it." He fixed her with a puzzled gaze. "Did you…leave?"

Purdey snorted, but it sounded suspiciously like she was holding back tears. "All on your own? Unsupervised? Of course not," she scoffed, but she averted her eyes and bit her lip. "Despite what you told me to do. Steed radioed help, don't you remember? They got there in time to take you away, not long after you blacked out."

"Must have pulled through then, eh?" Gambit murmured, trying to smile, not wanting her to cry anymore. He could dimly remember her doing too much of that on his account before he blacked out.

She sighed, returned her eyes to him. "You did," she confirmed. "But only just. I thought…for a moment, much to my dismay, I agreed with you, Mike Gambit. I thought you were a lost cause."

Gambit smirked. "Nothing new, then," he joked, but Purdey wasn't laughing. Her eyes were solemn, her face pale, and for the first time, Gambit noticed the signs of fatigue wearing on the lovely features. "Purdey?" he asked with concern. "I'm sorry. I'm all right now. Don't look like that."

"I can't help it," she whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks unhindered. "You were getting so cold, and I couldn't do anything." She reached up and wiped the droplets away angrily. "You were just bound and determined to let go because you thought it would save me, damn you. You had to say that, didn't you? You had to be _noble_!"

Gambit blinked in surprise. "Um, sorry?" he tried, not ready for this sort of conversation. His brain was still too fuzzy from too many drugs to hold his own against Purdey's formidable—and strange--mind. "I was only trying to—"

"I know exactly what you were trying to do," Purdey snapped. "And it makes me want to—oooh!" She growled angrily, then bent over him and kissed him hard, hands planting themselves firmly on either side of his head. Gambit's eyes widened comically, his tortured lungs emptying themselves instinctively in shock. Beside him, his monitor went mad, beeping frantically as all the blood rushed to his head and his heart did a complicated dance in his chest. By the time Purdey broke away he was certain the piece of equipment was ready to explode. He found himself panting with exertion, not something he was terribly cut out for. Purdey seemed to realise this, because she bit her lip and her cheeks coloured up. "I…" she began, moving to pull away, but Gambit didn't give her the chance. He mustered every ounce of strength out of his battered body and put it into mobilising his right arm before she could get away, curled his hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her down again. The monitor let off another series of happy beeps, this time a little more restrained, but still sped up in frequency noticeably. By the time Gambit was finished, a duty nurse had rushed in, then froze when she saw the reason for her patient's 'distress'.

"Everything all right, Mr. Gambit?" she queried as Gambit released a breathless and very red Purdey.

"Fine," he assured, nodding at Purdey. "I just got the kiss of life."

"But shouldn't I—"

"No," Gambit cut in, quite firmly. "I'm in good hands."

The nurse nodded dumbly, and made a hasty exit. Gambit looked back at the panting Purdey, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

"That was just what I needed, Purdey-girl. Help me get these monitors off, and I could probably trip the light fantastic."

"I think you're a little while from the disco yet," Purdey gasped, feeling blindly for her seat and lowering herself into it. "Mike Gambit, that was taking licence."

"True. But I just cheated death. I'm trying to live a little. Besides." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "You started it."

Purdey blushed again, her face only having just recovered from the last bout. She crossed her arms but didn't say anything. "Steed's all right," she said, avoiding his eyes. "His leg's in a plaster, but he's still mobile. Much to the nurses' displeasure."

"He's just enjoying his second lease on life, like I am," Gambit said flippantly. He was still in pain, but he found he didn't care. The endorphins were working nicely as an anaesthesia for the time-being. "Can't blame him."

"I can and I will," Purdey replied moodily, wishing her heart would quit pounding in her chest quite so enthusiastically. "Now that you're up I'm going to have two people to keep in line."

"I'm sure you'll manage," Gambit murmured fondly, a cheerful glint in his eye. He realised he hadn't inquired after her health the way he'd meant to before she kissed him. "How are you holding up?"

Purdey looked up from where she had been focussing on her shoes for their hopefully calming affect, and blinked. "Um, I'm all right, I suppose. No serious injuries. Just a bit of concussion." She managed half a smile. "I know I don't look it, but I'm recovering quite nicely. It's all the worrying after you that's worn me down."

Gambit felt his levity flow away. "Oh, Purdey, I'm sorry," he apologised. "This whole thing's been hell for you. Have you had any sleep at all?"

"I'm camped out in the room next door," Purdey admitted, brushing aside a stray lock of blonde hair. "Steed's just down the hall. I look in on you both when I can." She bit her lip. "They were worried, you know. You'd lost so much blood, and you were drowning in what you had left. They honestly don't know how you managed to survive that long."

"Force of habit," Gambit hazarded. "Or a guardian angel." He looked meaningfully at her. "Thanks for not abandoning me, Purdey-girl."

She smiled again, despite the tears forming in her eyes. "What, and let you leave me with all the work? I wasn't letting you get off that easily."

"I think it's safe to say that, if Gambit was ever innocent of the charge of shirking duty, this would be the time." The new voice was that of Steed, standing one-footed in the doorway, flanked by a pair of crutches. "The duty nurse informed me that you were awake," he explained as he swung himself into the room toward the bed. "I regret that I've been unable to tend your bedside as diligently as Purdey, but I find that I still tire rather easily as a result of our ordeal. I've visited whenever I've been able."

"That's all right," Gambit assured, as Steed settled himself gratefully onto the edge of the mattress. "Sounds like Purdey's been doing more than enough for the both of you."

"Including shaving," Steed pointed out, nodding at Gambit's shorn chin. Gambit frowned and touched his face, realised it was much too smooth for a man who had spent the better part of a week unconscious. His face split into a broad grin.

"Purdey, I didn't know you cared."

"I'm reluctant to leave a mess."

"Just smoothing the way for that kiss, I'll bet." He winked at her cheekily, and Purdey smirked and shook her head.

"I think I liked you better when you were unconscious," she declared.

"You were incredibly agreeable," Steed concurred with a smile. "A very good listener. But not terribly useful for writing reports."

Gambit made a noise that conveyed his general displeasure. "Can't a chap recuperate in peace without the Ministry bureaucracy breathing down his neck?"

"Absolutely," Steed agreed. "For another few weeks, but I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that McKay wants you on your feet as soon as possible."

"We agree on something for once," Gambit muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "I hate hospitals."

"So I've gathered."

"Don't worry," Gambit added, "I'll take my medicine and follow doctor's orders for once. I like my lungs, and besides, the sooner I'm vertical, the sooner I can work on getting Purdey horizontal."

"What a charming thought," Purdey said dryly, and rose, smoothing her skirt. "Well, if you pair of invalids is all right, I think I'll go and see what the canteen is serving for tea." She headed for the door, and Steed and Gambit watched her go mournfully.

"Purdey!" Steed called after her, scrabbling to retrieve his crutches.

"You're not just going to leave us here," Gambit added mournfully. "You said you wouldn't."

Purdey turned in the doorway, tongue-in-cheek. "When it's a matter of life and death, I will gladly stand by your side until the end," she told them. "But there's food involved, so I'm afraid you're out of luck. But don't worry. I hear they're serving rice pudding in this ward." She winked at them cockily and sauntered off. Steed pulled a face and looked to Gambit, who was clearly similarly unenthused.

"Rice pudding," Steed repeated. "She abandoned us to our fate."

"Your fate," Gambit retorted, closing his eyes. "I'm going back into a coma. Wake me when they progress from rice to Yorkshire."

"Will do."

End


End file.
